Reheated Cabbage Read Online Free PDF Page B

dinnae start gittin fuckin wide, wir gaun tae muh ma's n that's that. Dinnae try n snub ma auld girl.
    So that wis that settled. Nearer the time ah gits oantae the auld lady, askin her when she wants us roond. She gies ays aw this, 'Oh lit me see, when did Elspeth say thit her n Greg wir gaunny come roond again . . . ?'
    Well, ye git the fuckin picture. By the time it's Christmas Day, me n Joe've hud wir fuckin fill ay Elspeth's boyfriend, this fuckin Greg cunt or whatever they call um. Ah'd been oot oan the pish aw Christmas Eve wi some ay the boys, n Joe wis in the same boat, ye could see it fae the cunt's eyes, he wis fucked n aw. Aye, it goat fuckin well messy that night. Lines ay charlie racked up every five minutes; boatils n boatils ah champagne bein guzzled. That tae me's what Christmas is aw aboot, jist littin yirsel go. Specially the champagne; ah love that stuff, could quaff it till the cows come hame. Must be the aristocrat n ays. Blue fuckin blood.
    Ye suffer the next day but, no half ye fuckin dinnae.
    So that Christmas mornin, me n hur huv this big argumint again. Ma heid is fuckin nippin, n ma sinuses feel like some cunt's went n poured a load ay concrete intae them. Tryin tae git ready tae go roond tae muh ma's hoose, n feelin like that, she asks ays, — What dae ye think ah should wear the day, Frank?
    Ah jist looks at her n goes: — Clathes.
    That shuts ur fuckin mooth fir ah bit.
    Then ah sais, — How the fuck should ah ken?
    She looks at ays n goes, — Well, should ah git aw dressed up?
    — Wear whit ye fuckin like, ah telt ur, — ah'm no gittin aw trussed up like a fuckin turkey jist tae sit peevin n watchin the telly roond at muh ma's. Levi's, Ben Sherman n Stone Island cardy, that'll dae fir me.
    So that seems tae satisfy hur, n she pits oan this sports gear. Casual but quite smart, ken?
    Aye, ah kin tell a mile away thit she's taken the fuckin strop, but. Ah jist think, well, if she wants tae be aw antisocial this Christmas, that's fuckin well up tae her.
    Wi heads doon the road n gits tae the auld girl's. Joe n that wis awready thaire.
    — Aye aye, Franco, that Sandra goes tae me.
    — Aye, ah goes. Nivir saw eye tae eye wi her. Too much ah a mooth oan it. Dinnae ken how oor Joe kin be daein wi that. His choice but. Widnae fuckin well be mine anywey. At least her n Kate git oan, n that's a good thing, cause it keeps the bairns oaf Joe's back n lits us git a peeve in peace. Ah gits a can ay Rid Stripe open. Ah'm gaunny git fuckin well hammered; it's what Christmas is aw aboot.
    Wi firin intae the lagers awright. Wir jist sittin thaire, thinkin through oor hangovers, 'if this cunt Greg or whatever ye call the boy, if eh starts gittin wide, eh's gaunny git a fuckin bat in mooth, Christmas or nae fuckin Christmas.'
    Eftir a bit the door goes, n it's Elspeth. This tall, dark-heided cunt wi a side partin comes in behind her. Eh's aw done up tae the nines in a smart coat n suit – ye kin tell that this cunt really fancies ehsel. What goat me wis the side partin. Ken how some things jist git oan yir fuckin nerves fir nae reason? Bit then what really wound ays up wis thit eh wis cairryin a bunch ay flooirs. Flooirs, oan fuckin Christmas Day! — For you, Val, eh goes tae the auld girl, giein her a wee peck oan the cheek. Then the cunt comes up tae me n goes, — You must be Frank, n eh pits ehs hand oot.
    Ah'm thinkin, aye, who the fuck wants tae ken, likes, but ah lit it go, cause ah didnae want tae cause a scene. Jist didnae take tae this smarmy poof at aw but, ye ken how it is wi some people? Try as ye might, ye jist cannae fuckin well take tae thum.
    But ah bites the bullet n shakes the cunt's hand, thinkin, Christmas n that, the season ay goodwill.
    — Good tae meet ye finally, eh sais. — Elspeth talks about ye a lot. In very glowing terms, I should add, the cunt goes.
    Ah feel like asking the cunt what the fuck eh's oan aboot, is eh tryin tae git wide or what, but eh's turned away n eh's ower